


try to put my finger on what burns me up

by seditonem



Series: antics involving percy jackson and apollo [1]
Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-31
Updated: 2013-12-31
Packaged: 2018-01-06 21:39:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1111800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seditonem/pseuds/seditonem
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>percy has many good dreams<br/>all of which involve the god<br/>who's cool, apollo.<br/>(someone told me this was a haiku but i've never been able to write them well so sorry.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	try to put my finger on what burns me up

**Author's Note:**

> warnings: i wrote this porn a long time ago and now i am seriously awkward about it   
> disclaimer: rick riordan, i am so, so sorry. this is all a filthy lie and non-profit.

So, half-blood dreams pretty much fucking suck, right?

_Wrong._

Percy knows this because one morning he wakes up pound-nails hard and panting, his hair sticking up at odd angles and his hands clutching at empty air, exactly where a certain deity had been, five seconds before, in his dream. He’s had normal teenage sex dreams before, but this, _this_ , this is something else.

He rubs his hands over his face, pants a bit more (because gods, you don’t get more graphic dreams than when you get _prophetic_ dreams), and then goes and has a very long cold shower. 

By mid morning he’s hoping it’s just a fluke and the dream will go away.

#

As if a dream like that could just go away. 

He’s sitting in a lecture, trying to concentrate on how you’re supposed to best rescue a dolphin from a tangled net (go underwater, hold your breath for an hour and cut the ropes yourself, _duh_ ), when he gets flashbacks. 

It’s really unfair, y’know. One minute it’s dolphins and nets, the next it’s handcuffs on his bedposts and the god of the sun spreading his thighs and sucking his fingers, smirk curved wickedly around the digits. In his dream, Percy didn’t really think about how many women Apollo had managed to coerce into bed with him, but he does now. Gods, does he think about it now. One dream gives rise to a thousand fantasies -- male or female, Percy doesn’t care -- they’re all just there, in his head, and he can’t make them go away. 

He shifts uneasily in his chair, getting an odd side-ways look from the girl with heavy black plastic-framed glasses, and tries to smile apologetically. Under the desk, the zipper of his jeans is pressing hard and painful against his cock. 

#

He’s in the sun-bus again, but this time it’s just him and Apollo. The god smirks, presses a switch that says “autopilot”, and leans back in the driver’s seat.

“Isn’t that cheating?” Percy asks, hesitantly.

Apollo shrugs. “Maybe a little. But that’s what gods do.” He grins, patting his lap in invitation, and Percy goes to him willingly, spreading himself over Apollo’s thighs like he was born to be splayed all over him like that. They kiss, slow at first, like Percy’s trying to categorise the taste of the sun god, and then Apollo pulls on Percy’s blue button-down and rips it apart, buttons falling everywhere. He’s wearing a white vest underneath, and that’s ripped too, so he looks like a slightly better-dressed post-metamorphosis Hulk. Percy chucks the ADHD thought away and licks into Apollo’s mouth, hungry and wanting. He an feel Apollo’s erection through the beige slacks the god’s wearing, and he grinds down against him, his whole body thrumming with sudden power. 

“What about Zeus?” he asks, suddenly, and Apollo frowns. “I, uh, he doesn’t like me flying,” Percy reminds him, and Apollo sighs. He doesn’t bother answering, he just kisses Percy instead, and then pushes him against the dashboard (how Percy fits there will forever remain a mystery to him), pulls open his jeans and Percy always _knew_ going commando would pay off some day. 

A lot of people probably don’t know it, but the god of the sun is really good at giving head. 

And then Percy wakes up, his body on the cusp of orgasm, and he comes with two frustrated strokes of his own hand. 

#

The problem is this: Percy knows Apollo’s poetry is bad, but he doesn’t need to see the god in bed to know the sex would be fucking fantastic, pun intended. He knows this because the dreams come again and again, first once a fortnight, then once a week, then every night, until he’s waking up moaning into his pillow, thighs spread across the bed in invitation. And they’re not just the sort of normal sex dream, they’re proper demigod prophesy dreams, the kind that you know will come true but you don’t quite understand until they happen.

Well, there’s not much to not understand with the ones he’s getting, but still. 

Percy’s body feels like it’s on high alert, and he ends up drinking copious amounts of coffee to try and stay awake, avoiding the dreams. 

# 

Days turn to weeks turn to months turn to a year, and before he knows it Percy’s nineteenth birthday is approaching. 

Of course, that’s when Apollo shows up. 

He doesn’t really say hello so much as he stuns everyone in Percy’s Thursday morning lecture with a dazzling smile and says, “Can I borrow Percy for a moment, please? Thanks awfully.” 

“What’s this about?” Percy asks, trying to act like he’s not been having dreams about the god which he’s pretty damn sure that Apollo himself sent. “If there was a monster in town surely you’re just attracting its attention?” 

Apollo doesn’t answer. He pushes Percy against the wall of the corridor, pushes his hands down Percy’s ratty sweats (it’s laundry day), and jerks him off right there in the hallway. His mouth presses along Percy’s neck, kissing, and he whispers things that are probably lines from filthy love poetry. Percy shudders, close, his fingers digging into Apollo’s shoulders (and Hades, does the god look good in a button up white shirt and black suit trousers), and he’s reaching for climax, his body shivering, when – 

He wakes up in bed, alone, gasping, and the first registered touch of his sheets against his cock sends him over the edge, fist balled up in his mouth. 

That’s when he decides enough is enough, and doubles his caffeine intake.

#

The day before his birthday, Percy stares at his computer screen, a can of Red Bull in his hand, his eyes hooded with tiredness. When his phone rings he nearly jumps through the ceiling.

“Oh, hi, mom.” 

His mom chatters about upcoming birthday plans, how they’ll spend his birthday weekend, how Paul’s class is ridiculous and he still gets questions about Percy and that one time the science building blew up and someone _swore_ they saw a giant ram get thrown out of a window, and then Percy yawns really loudly. 

“...you sound tired, honey,” his mom says, uncertainly. 

“Sorry,” Percy starts saying, but he’s halfway through apologising when he yawns again. “It’s this report – you’d never believe how – “ he yawns again; “ – boring dolphins can be.” 

There’s a short pause, and then his mom laughs. “Get some sleep. You’ve got a big weekend coming up!”

Five minutes later Percy falls asleep on his keyboard, typing out a long line of “b”s with his forehead.

#

Someone shakes his shoulder.

“You’ll get marks on your forehead from the keys,” a voice says, and Percy jerks upright, staring at the figure beside him. Apollo, curse him, is drinking coffee (Percy can smell it, and it’s his favourite, with a hint of vanilla), leaning against the computer table so he’s facing Percy. 

“Hi,” he says, belatedly, and the hairs on Percy’s arms stand on end. 

“Hi,” he replies, his voice cracking. 

“Happy birthday,” the god says, draining the cup of coffee. 

“Happy in what way?” growls Percy, snatching the cup and slamming it down onto the table. The god raises one eyebrow, pushes Percy’s chair back a few inches with his foot, and then sits down easily on Percy’s lap, his legs wide open. A circuit in Percy’s brain bursts, having contemplated the thought of fucking Apollo. 

“In any way you like,” the sun god whispers against his ear, and Percy’s hard, instantly. Apollo’s hand is on his jaw, the heat of his body like a brand on Percy’s skin, and he kisses Percy insistently, biting at his lower lip, trailing kisses down his jaw, his neck, and finally nibbling at his collarbone. Percy whimpers embarrassingly, pulling Apollo closer to him, trying to get their hips closer together. The god shifts closer to him, the friction on Percy’s cock absolutely perfect, and ruts against him, breath coming uneven against the close-cropped hair at the base of Percy’s neck. 

Percy’s hands are tangled in Apollo’s belt-loops, his fingernails digging into the denim, and he thrusts up against him again and again, his cock pressing insistently against the seam of his jeans. Apollo grabs one of Percy’s hands, guiding it down to press against his own cock, and Percy can feel it swell under his fingers, even through his jeans. It just makes him harder, and he moans, clutching at the god as he comes in hot white pulses. 

He sits bolt upright at his computer, gasping, his hips working against air. His sweat-pants are ruined, his essay has five pages of “b”s, and he has a splitting headache.

For the first time in his life, Percy Jackson gives up, has a shower, and takes a sleeping pill. 

#

The day before his birthday, a Thursday, begins uneventfully. Percy hangs around the local coffee shop, bypassing a few people he knew from first year, and stops by the bulletin board outside. Halfway through reading a poster about an upcoming talk from a marine biologist that he’s pretty interested in, Percy notices he’s not alone. He tenses, ready for some sort of monster, and then gets the shock of his life (and he’s had a lot of shocks, really) when he turns and sees the sun god leaning against the wall, grinning at him. 

“Hey, Percy,” he says, voice slick and sly, and takes a bite out of a blood-red apple. The crunch sound it makes is positively sinful. Percy’s knees go slightly weak. 

“Hey,” he replies, but his voice is shot to hell and he can hardly manage the word. Behind him, birds are singing, but they might as well be the three Furies coming to kill him for all he cares.

“You look tired,” Apollo frowns, his voice shrouded in mock-sympathy. “Have you been sleeping well lately?” 

“Oh, y’know, typical half-blood dreams,” Percy shrugs. Two can play that game, he decides, and in any case, with his luck, this is probably another one of the aforementioned dreams. It feels like a dream. Apollo nods, sagely. 

“Well, I hope they get better. They do say that the only way to get rid of those dreams is to confront them.” There’s a twinkle in his eye. 

“Actually, Apollo,” Percy says, frowning, “I’ve never heard anyone say that before.” Apollo looks sad for a second, and then opens his mouth. “No!” Percy cuts in, firmly, “no haikus please.” 

“I wasn’t going to go for a haiku,” Apollo says, sounding wounded. Percy raises his eyebrow. Out of all the gods, he probably gets along with Apollo (and his dad) the best, but he’s not sure he hasn’t overstepped his mark. Thank Hades it’s just a dream. He sighs internally.

“What were you going for, then?” he asks, tentatively, his fingers pressing against the shape of Riptide in his pocket, just in case he has to defend himself in his dream. Apollo’s smile is appropriately blinding. 

“I was going to go for a ‘do you want to come back to my place’,” he smirks.

#

They go for Percy’s tiny one-bedroom apartment instead (because Percy doesn’t think he can face going back to some massive temple-like building and fucking on golden sheets or something) and by the time they get to the cramped lobby he’s pretty sure it’s not a dream. Apollo seems happy to walk the few blocks, and then climb the stairs (the lift broke last summer), and he even seems at ease when Percy fumbles with the keys and lets them in to a slightly dark hallway. 

In his dreams, they’re usually naked by now. 

Percy locks the door behind them, shuffles awkwardly past Apollo, and goes to the kitchen. The god follows him, turning on lights without touching the switches. He grins at Percy and slips into a kitchen chair.

“So, uh,” Percy begins, leaning against the sink. “Do you want something to drink?” 

“Nah,” Apollo shrugs. “I was kinda hungry, actually.” His eyes glint a little, and Percy can’t help the instantaneous reaction that a year of nocturnal fantasies has primed him for. He moves without thinking, straddling the god sitting in the chair, and kisses him, like he’s dreamt of doing for so long. 

Reality, however, isn’t much like the dreams. In fact, reality is so good, the dreams are sort of like an insult to it. 

#

Percy’s not exactly used to being manhandled, not after three years of practically owning the training arena, which is probably why it’s such a ridiculous turn-on when Apollo does it. The god forces him backwards into his bedroom, pushing him down onto the mattress as he strips off the white t-shirt and shorts he’s been wearing. Percy’s mouth goes dry. It’s not really _fair_ for someone to look that good, he thinks, and then decides he doesn’t care, and pulls his own shorts and shirt off, spreading his thighs before Apollo even has to ask. 

“You caught on a lot faster than Achilles,” Apollo grins, the mattress dipping as he kneels between Percy’s legs. 

“What?” Percy blurts out, and then Apollo kisses him, fast and loose, his tongue pressing against Percy’s. Somewhere in the middle of it two slick fingers press against Percy’s asshole and he whimpers, wanting it so badly his whole body shakes. He’s not sure if he cares that Apollo will probably make every next meeting absolute Hades for him, but even if he did care, it’s all blown away as Apollo slips the tips of his fingers in. 

Yeah, reality is a lot better than the dreams, Percy decides, especially when Apollo moves down the bed so he’s lying on his stomach, his wicked tongue licking at Percy’s hole. There’s a bright golden light around him like an extended halo, making his whole body gleam, and Percy can hardly look at him. He spreads his thighs wider, trying not to moan too loudly and wake the neighbours, but Apollo just curls his tongue inside him, rubbing his thumbs along the backs of Percy’s thighs, and Percy whimpers, his hands tangling in his sheets. Apollo grins (Percy can fucking _feel_ it), one hand coming up to fist over Percy’s erection, and then he pulls off with an obscene wet sound. 

“Then again,” Apollo murmurs, “you’re a lot more flexible.” Percy’s eyes dart up to his face; he can’t even form words anymore, not with the god’s touch all over him. He writhes against the sheets, unable to think, and Apollo smirks down at him. 

“Do you know why I gave you those dreams?” he asks, his smirk positively evil now. Percy can only shake his head, but inside he’s seething. A whole year of dreams, a whole year of being ruined for anyone else who so much as looked his way, and the god’s just smiling about it? Typical. Apollo licks his lips, moving close, until he’s whispering right into Percy’s ear. “I gave you those dreams so you'd know in advance _exactly_ how I was going to pin you down and fuck you.”

Percy’s brain feels like it’s leaking out of his ears. He whimpers, clawing at Apollo’s shoulders, and uses the last of his strength to flip them so he’s on top, kneeling over the god of the sun. 

“You sent me a lot of dreams,” he manages to say. “I think I’ll pick which one I want to come true.” 

Apollo, it seems, is speechless. But that’s probably because Percy is sinking down onto his cock, centimetre by centimetre, his head thrown back and hands steadying his thighs. There’s a long, silent moment where Percy just pauses, completely full, and then he opens his eyes, catches Apollo’s gaze, and moves. 

The rhythm feels odd at first, after so long, but before long (probably because they’re both at least part god) Percy’s vision is going fuzzy, sweat dripping down his back. Apollo’s hands are like brands on his hips, pulling Percy back down against him. He buries his mouth against the curve of Percy’s shoulder, biting and licking as if he wants to leave behind some sort of mark of his presence. Percy hardly thinks he needs to worry – there’s no way he’s ever going to forget this. He tilts his hips, leaning back on his hands, and Apollo actually gasps, a hot wounded noise that sounds like he’s been landed a sucker punch, and then he slams back into Percy, hitting a bundle of nerves that makes Percy moan loudly. The god’s hand is wrapped around Percy’s cock, relentlessly jerking him off, and between that and the way he’s being fucked, Percy’s pretty sure he has only minutes left. 

Apollo pulls back to look him in the eye, his body all slick with sweat, hard lines of muscle and tan skin shining in the darkness of Percy’s room. Abruptly, he pulls out, his body poised between Percy’s spread thighs. 

Percy tries to say something, anything, but Apollo runs his hands down his sides, like he’s mapping out Percy’s body, and then pulls him down into his lap. He kisses gently at Percy’s neck, which does nothing to help the way the demigod’s shaking with pent-up orgasm, and then, leisurely, like he has all the time in the world, he wraps his hand around their cocks, his palm slick with precome and sweat, and jerks them slowly. 

Percy comes instantly, balling his fist up against his mouth to keep from screaming. He thinks he hears Apollo curse in Greek as he follows him, but then he pretty much passes out, which is probably a good thing, since he hasn’t slept properly in gods know how long. 

#

When he wakes up, he heads straight for the kitchen without checking his bed. Apollo’s probably gone anyway, he thinks, but strangely, he doesn’t feel bitter. Gods are gods – you can’t expect them to stick around just for you, not when they’ve got duties to attend to. He makes himself a cup of coffee and trudges back to bed to try and sort out his thoughts. The clock on the microwave tells him he has four hours before he needs to get home and see his mom, and he intends to spend all of them lazing around in his bed. 

His bed, however, is not empty. Percy almost drops the coffee cup. Apollo is lying in the tangled sheets, a book open on his lap, and a pair of wire-framed glasses on. He looks up at Percy and grins sunnily. 

“Ah, coffee! I thought I smelt something delicious. But then again, that could just be you.” His grin widens. 

“Why are you still here?” Percy blurts out, before he can stop himself. Apollo shrugs. 

“You don’t think I gave you an entire year of dreams just for _one night_ , do you?” he asks, looking concerned. “I mean, the gods are annoying, but not that annoying.” 

“Uh,” Percy begins, and then thinks better of it. 

“I thought so,” Apollo smirks. “Now, listen to this: 

_I have fucked Percy_  
Just like in his dreams last night  
Aren’t I so awesome? 

Percy scowls. “You’ve used that last line before.” 

Apollo pouts. “Pity. I was planning to recite that at the gods’ council tonight. Oh well.”


End file.
